


Running Blind

by Peanut_McNut



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Human!Castiel - Freeform, M/M, destiel au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 09:05:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2502209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanut_McNut/pseuds/Peanut_McNut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has already had a long, rough night when the fire alarm in his apartment building goes off at 3 am. Things take an interesting turn when he's run down by his new neighbor while exiting the building.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Blind

Castiel stumbles through his apartment door. The key catches and he nearly tears his arm off trying to stop his forward momentum to turn back and yank it out from where it’s stuck in the lock. It has done that since he moved in two years ago. It's just one of the many quirks that came with living in an older building.  
  
Castiel drops his keys in the clear dish sitting on the table next to his door as he pushes it closed, slumping back against the solid wood with a sigh. It’s almost 3 am and he’s just getting home from work. Well, not work exactly. Balthazar and Gabriel had all but kidnapped him after work. That had been 10 hours ago. He’d been shocked to see his two older brothers leaning against the black walls of his office building, waiting for Castiel to emerge once his day had ended.  
  
It had been a month since he'd seen Balthazar last, but Gabriel he hadn’t seen in well over four years. Balthazar is a jet-setting freelance journalist for a number of major magazines, while Gabriel is… Well, come to think of it, Castiel isn’t really sure what Gabriel does for a living. Castiel probably doesn’t want to know, considering it's Gabriel.  
  
They had insisted on taking him out to dinner to the newest restaurant in town with a name Castiel can neither remember nor could he pronounce even after Gabriel enunciated every syllable for him multiple times. After dinner came the clubs, and then the bars. Castiel isn’t much of a drinker, especially when his brothers are around. He has been their designated driver for as long as he can remember and tonight was no different. He’d dropped them off at their hotel on the outskirts of the city, declining their invitation to continue the party upstairs and making plans for Sunday brunch, which he’ll have to remind both of them about sometime when they're both wake and marginally sober.

  
At least it's Friday. Well, Saturday now, he supposes as he glances at the clock hanging on his wall. Groaning, Castiel pushes himself away from the door. He places his wallet next to his keys and has one arm out of his trench coat when a piercing sound fills the air. His hands fly to his ears, covering them as he glares up at the ceiling. The fire alarm sounds louder than it should, splitting the quiet of the early morning hours with its shrill shriek. Castiel grumbles to himself as he jams his arm back into his coat and grabs his wallet and keys. He puts his wallet in his coat pocket as he jerks the door open, peering out into the hallway.

His tired, irritated neighbors are already making their way downstairs. People shrug on coats and bathrobes between yawns, some of them leaning on walls or hopping on one foot as they try to slip shoes on in their still half asleep daze. Most of them are filtering down the main stairs located on the side furthest from Castiel, everyone herding together as they make the trek down the few flights to the slumbering world outside.  
  
Castiel’s apartment is one of the few on this side of the hall that are currently occupied. Most of them are empty at the moment, while the rest are undergoing renovations. There’s only two tenants other than him. One is a woman named Ellie. She's in her early seventies and Castiel helps her with small tasks around her apartment whenever he can. She tells some great stories, which Castiel finds endearing if not a little farfetched. She also makes some of the best brownies Castiel has ever tasted. The minor chores are a small price to pay for the pleasure of her company. He knows she’s out of town for the next few weeks, visiting one of her sisters who lives a few states away. At least she's missing out on all this unwelcome late night activity. His other neighbor is a recent addition to this end of the hall. Castiel hasn’t met them yet.  
  
He takes the time to close and lock his door before heading for the back stairwell. The stairwell is empty, as Castiel expected it would be. He lives on the top floor of a three story building. If anyone on the lower floors used this way, they must already be outside. Castiel lets the door swing wide, his breath turning into mist as it hits the cool air. This exit leads out to the side of the building, while the main one leads out front. He can see lights glowing around the side of the building, some of the louder voices drifting over to him, though he can’t make out what they're saying. Sirens sound in the distance. The firetrucks should be here any minute. He walks a few feet away from the building, casting his eyes skyward in search of smoke.  
  
There’s nothing. No visible signs of smoke or damage. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, except that if they’ve all been summoned out into the dead of a cold, November night for no reason, then Crowley, their landlord, will have hell to pay on Monday. Castiel’s eyes are still scanning the top of the building when he’s knocked to the ground. He crashes to the asphalt, skinning the palm of his right hand in the process. When Castiel raises his eyes to see what ran into him, he comes face to face with a pair of gray boxer shorts.  
  
“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to knock you over,” a voice says above him.  
  
Castiel looks up to see the owner of the underwear currently taking up most of his vision. The man crouches down, reaching out to help Castiel to his feet. He allows himself to be hauled up, staring blankly at the man as he examines Castiel's hand.  
  
“Doesn’t look too bad. I can’t see any gravel or anything stuck in there. You’ll survive.”  
  
There are a number of questions Castiel has rattling around in his head, but he goes for the most obvious of them.  
  
“Why are you naked?”  
  
“I’m not,” the man says, almost offended.  
  
The man gestures down at himself, Castiel’s eyes following of their own volition. The man isn’t ripped, but he’s toned. Castiel can still see muscles shifting under his skin as his bowed legs sway him back and forth. On his feet are a pair sandals. He must have thrown them on while bolting out the door. It takes far too long for Castiel to realize that he’s staring at the man. He flushes as his head whips back up to meet his eyes. The man is smirking at him, arms folded.  
  
“I sleep naked, so I mean… It could be worse.”  
  
Castiel can feel his blush deepen. He wants to look away, but refuses to break eye contact with this man. He can see the mirth in his eyes. He’s baiting Castiel. Waiting to see what he’ll do. Castiel’s eyes stay on him as he shucks his trench coat, holding it out to the man.  
  
“Do I look like some kind of damsel in distress?” The man asks.  
  
“You look cold,” Castiel says, deadpan, “and who knows how long we’ll be out here.”  
  
The man considers Castiel for a moment longer before smiling. It’s the first, genuine look he has given Castiel. Lines crinkle at the edges of his eyes, white teeth appearing as full lips spread wide. Castiel is staring again. He can’t find it in himself to care. The man doesn’t seem to either. He stares right back as he puts the coat on, doing up the buttons and even tying the belt that Castiel usually lets dangle behind him.  
  
“What’s your name?”  
  
“Castiel.”  
  
The man holds out a hand, “Name’s Dean.”  
  
“You must be my new neighbor,” Castiel says, shaking Dean’s hand.  
  
“Guilty. Just moved in a few days ago,” Dean says, rubbing at the back of his neck, “Sorry again about running you down. I don’t have everything unpacked yet, and I couldn’t find anything quick to put on before heading out the door.”  
  
“Why were you running?”  
  
“I was trying to make a break for the bushes over there. Figured I’d hide out there until everyone went back inside,” Dean says, laughing, “I didn’t want to meet my new neighbors dressed like this.”  
  
“That’s a generous use of the word ‘dressed’.”  
  
“Hey, at least I got shoes on!” Dean says, looking down at his feet.  
  
Castiel rolls his eyes, “Sandals do not count as shoes when it’s under thirty degrees.”  
  
“Good point,” Dean says, crossing his arms again to hold in heat, “Shoulda thought to grab my car keys. At least we could've stayed warm.”  
  
Castiel furrows his brow, digging in his pocket for his keys. He’s an idiot. He should have thought of that earlier.  
  
“I’ve got mine,” Castiel says, pulling them out, “Do you want —“  
  
“Yes,” Dean says, interrupting him, “Uh, I mean… Yeah, please. If you don’t mind.”  
  
Dean follows Castiel’s lead. They cross the lawn over into the parking lot, part of which wraps around to the front of their building. From where Castiel is parked, they should be able to see what’s going on. Castiel glances over as they weave through cars. The fire trucks have arrived, but there doesn’t seem to be any haste to the firefighters’ movements. Whatever happened must not be too bad. He watches Dean make a face at the dinged and scratched exterior of his older model Honda Accord. Castiel unlocks his door, hitting the button on the inside to do the same for Dean.  
  
“No offense dude, but you’re car sucks.”  
  
“None taken, but at least the heater works.”  
  
They slip into their seats, Castiel turning the car on and flipping the dials to full blast. After just a minute or two of idling, the heat starts to seep through the car. Dean visibly relaxes. Castiel hadn’t noticed it earlier, but he was shivering.  
  
Dean smiles at him, “You weren’t wrong. It does have a good heater.”  
  
“That’s about the only thing good about it,” Castiel says, leaning back as he lets his hands rest on the bottom of the steering wheel, “I need to replace it soon. I’ve had this thing since high school.”  
  
“I could probably help you when you want to start looking. If you want, I mean.”  
  
“You know about cars?”  
  
Dean nods, “Yep, I’m a mechanic.”  
  
“Oh, do you work at one of the shops in town?”  
  
“I said I was a mechanic, I didn’t say I _worked_ as one,” Dean says, “My dad taught me.”  
  
“What do you do then?”  
  
“I’m a professor at KU.”  
  
Castiel blinks at him, “Really?”  
  
“Yeah, why?”  
  
“I don’t know. You just don’t seem — I mean —“ Castiel says, floundering.  
  
It seems he can’t help but put his foot in his mouth tonight, and now it’s stuck there. Dean leaves him off balance. There’s something about him that Castiel can’t quite put his finger on, but he’d sure like to try. If he could just get it together and quit making a complete ass of himself that is. Dean smiles at him with that same open expression, those crinkles returning to the edges of his eyes. Castiel feels his heart beat a little faster in his chest.  
  
“I guess running out of an apartment building in your skivvies doesn’t give off a well respected scholar vibe does it?”  
  
“No, not really.”  
  
“What can I say, Cass? I’m just full of surprises.”  
  
Castiel warms at the nickname. He doesn’t doubt that at all.  
  
“What do you do for a living?”  
  
“I’m a tax accountant for Sandover in Kansas City.”  
  
Dean nods, looking for all the world like he’s trying not to laugh, “Wow. You sound really enthusiastic about it too.”  
  
“It pays the bills,” Castiel says with a shrug.  
  
Dean’s brow furrows, thoughtful as he watches Castiel. He opens his mouth to say something, but their attention is drawn by the loss of light outside the car as the firetrucks start to pull away. Castiel looks out the windshield. People are filtering back into the apartment building. They must have been given the all clear.  
  
“It appears as though we can go back in now,” Castiel says, shutting off the engine, but leaving the radio on.  
  
The soft rock station he'd been listening to on the way home plays in the background. Neither one of them moves to get out. Castiel turns to look at Dean, who is still considering him, like he’s trying to come to a decision about something.  
  
“Wanna get some grub? I know a diner that’s open all night. It’s not too far from here,” Dean says, rummaging in the pocket of Castiel’s trench coat before pulling something out and waving it in the air with a winning smile, “I’m buying!”  
  
“With my wallet?” Castiel asks, mouth twitching in amusement.  
  
“Don’t get nitpicky about the details, Cass,” Dean says, handing it over to him, “So, what do you say?”  
  
“Don’t you want to put some clothes on first?” Castiel asks, taking the wallet from Dean and putting it in his back pocket.  
  
Dean glances down at himself, before looking back up at Castiel, “I think I can squeak by on the ‘no shoes, no shirt’ rule with what I’ve got here.”  
  
“But you’re almost naked under there.”  
  
“Guess that’ll have to be our little secret,” Dean says with a grin as he puts his seat belt on.  
  
Castiel stares at him, stunned for a moment, before turning the ignition, the engine of his Accord springing back to life as the heat swirls around them once again. He puts it into drive and heads out of the parking lot, listening as Dean gives him directions. Castiel glances over at Dean more than once as they drive, fighting a grin. There is a distinct possibility that Castiel is already in over his head with this man. Somehow, Castiel is all right with that prospect.

**Author's Note:**

> Got the idea from a post on Tumblr: “‘the fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear’ AU”


End file.
